


'Til Death

by blinker



Category: Swiss Army Man (2016)
Genre: Angst, M/M, lots of pining, proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 07:13:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17914235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blinker/pseuds/blinker
Summary: When Manny told Hank he wanted to learn about marriage, Hank didn't think it would wind up being this painful.





	'Til Death

“Hank?”

Hank cranes his neck to look back at Manny, whose head is resting against Hank’s shoulder. He’s been carrying Manny for a good half hour now, so he’ll be due for a break pretty soon. “What’s up, bud?”

“Can I ask you about something?”

“Yeah, go ahead.”

“What’s it like being married?”

It’s out of nowhere, but Hank’s more or less come to expect these kinds of questions from Manny. “Well,” he starts, whacking back some overhanging branches with a makeshift walking stick. “‘Married’ means living with somebody. You wake up next to each other, you make each other coffee in the morning….You do things together, like hike the Grand Canyon, or invite your friends over for drinks.”

He stops, unhooking his arms from Manny’s knees and letting Manny sink gently down to the ground, before Hanks drops his bag and sits down next to him. He pulls a little plastic water bottle out of his bag and takes a quick swig. “Marriage is, you know, like sharing your life with somebody. They get half of what’s yours, you get half of what’s theirs.” He offers Manny the water bottle, but Manny ever so slightly shakes his head, so Hank puts it back in his bag. “People say it’s a partnership.”

Manny thinks a minute. “So marriage is kind of like what we do, except better?”

Exasperation washes over Hank, and he has to close his eyes so Manny doesn’t see his pupils start to rise to the heavens. He almost has to laugh at the hapless way Manny manages to push on every button Hank has. “Yeah, Manny, I guess you could say that,” he says, dragging a hand down his face.

“Do you think me and Sarah were married?”

Manny’s voice rises at the end, so Hank knows he’s hoping for a yes. Hank mulls this over, trying to work out the best way to answer. Lying to Manny is wrong, he knows. A part of Hank knows he’s picked up the habit of trying to play therapist, helping to guide Manny to each new revelation. The glow of pride he feels whenever Manny has a new breakthrough serves as proof to him that he isn’t being entirely selfish. “Do you _remember_ anything about marriage?” he asks finally.

“It’s when you spend the rest of your life with the person you love.”

Manny’s just parroting back what Hank’s already told him. “What else?” he probes. “Like what else happens when you’re married?”

“You take out a mortgage and buy a minivan to drive your kids around. And people bring you toasters and silverware.”

Hank’s brow furrows at the last part, trying to remember all the things he’d told Manny about marriage before today. It’s come up a few times, though he hasn’t gone too in depth. “Toasters and silver—? Oh, no, Manny, that’s just at the wedding. People don’t bring you that stuff once you’re actually married.”

“Oh. What do you do at the wedding?”

Hank thinks for a moment. He hasn’t been to many weddings; last time he’d attended one, he’d been a gawky thirteen year old at his older cousin’s wedding, and Hank mostly remembers staring blank-faced at his extended family as they commented on the lousy food and lack of seating at the reception. He hadn’t really known anybody there, except his dad. “Well, you dance,” he says finally. “And you make toasts—that’s when somebody raises their glass and talks about the couple. Says a nice memory about them or something.”

“What does the couple do?”

“They dance, too. The woman wears a white dress and the man wears a suit. The man isn’t allowed to see her before the wedding, because…” Getting wrapped up in the story, Hank rolls over onto his elbow to face Manny. “When he sees her at the wedding for the first time, it’s special. She curls her hair and wears a veil, and it’s the most beautiful she’s ever looked in her life. She’s so beautiful that people start to cry when she walks down the aisle. And her husband cries more than anybody else, because he gets to spend the rest of his life with her.”

“Oh, wow,” Manny says, a faraway look in his eyes. “Hank, I want to have a wedding.”

Hank starts to smile at the pretty picture he’s painting. “That’s not all. After the couple says their vows, everybody goes out to the reception to party and eat cake.”

“Cake is sweet, right?”

“That’s right. You remember the Twinkie I found a few weeks ago?”

“Yeah, the one with the cream inside.”

Hank almost cringes at the fact that this is the closest analogy he can draw to wedding cake. “Yeah, well, cake kind of tastes like that.”

“Wow,” Manny marvels. “I want Twinkies at my wedding.”

Hank nods, reaching over to grab his bag so they can get a move on again. “I’m sure you could get some. They’re really cheap.”

“What do you have to do to have a wedding?”

“Well, first you have to propose.”

“Okay,” Manny says. “How do I do that?”

“You’d take her out to a nice place, usually a restaurant. You’d talk, ask her about her day. Then, when she’s not expecting it, you pull out the ring. Girls hate it if you propose without a ring. And you tell her all the reasons you want to be with her, and ask her if she wants to marry you.”

“If I just do that, she’ll say yes?”

“Yeah, hopefully.” Hank notices that Manny's questions seem to be coming to a point, and he eyes the corpse dubiously. “Why?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Manny says. “If I want to spend the rest of my life with Sarah, I need to marry her first.” Hank’s heart starts to sink as he figures out where this is heading. “And so maybe I should learn how to do that,” Manny continues, “so that when I ask the real Sarah, she’ll say yes and I won’t make an idiot out of myself. Hank—” Manny looks at Hank with those wide and moony eyes, and Hank wants to swear, because he knows what Manny is about to ask, and he knows that he won’t be able to refuse.

“Can you teach me?” Manny asks.

 

First, Hank painstakingly sets the scene for the proposal. His first thought is that Manny could ask Sarah at the “cafe”; it would be kind of romantic, he thinks, to propose at a place where you’d already made so many memories with someone. He even considers the bus, but quickly rejects the idea. If Manny is going to experience a proposal, then it should be the best proposal Hank can manage.

He spends a couple days collecting enough moss, flowers and little stones for this. From his scavenged materials, Hank constructs an almost-recognizable replica of a public garden, the same kind he’d occasionally had to visit for school trips and family outings. Flat stones are arranged in a winding pathway around the centerpiece, and from the sides of the path sprout flowers of all kinds mixed in with little bits of cloth that Hank frays to look like petals. Hank had wanted to put in a water feature, but his engineering skills only extend so far. In the end, he collects a bunch of white plastic bags, which he cuts and scrunches up until they resemble water blooming off the top of a fountain spigot. Manny will get the idea, he figures.

When he presents the finished scene to Manny, he has to smile at the look of slack-jawed amazement on the corpse’s face—well, more slack-jawed than usual. “Oh my god, Hank,” Manny says. “It’s beautiful! I wish you’d taken me here earlier. I bet Sarah will love it.”

Hank grins, before snapping into go-mode and ushering Manny over to the lip of the fountain. “Okay,” he says, putting his hands on Manny’s shoulders so that Hank can level with him. “This is it. You know what you’re gonna say to her?”

“I practiced all night in my head. I even timed it, so she wouldn’t get bored if I talked too long.”

“Good,” Hank confirms. “Now, don’t be nervous. She clearly enjoys being with you.” It’s strange to talk about himself in the third person like this. “Just be honest and speak from the heart.”

“Okay. And Hank?”

Hank freezes midstep, already retreating to go put on the wig. “Yeah?”

“How does my hair look?”

The question catches Hank off-guard. He takes a moment to assess Manny’s appearance. “You look great,” Hank assures him.

“Okay, thanks.”

Hank flashes him two thumbs up.“Just be confident. You got this!”

With that, Hank makes his retreat, quickly darting behind some boulders so he can pull the wig over his hair and adjust it. He’s already wearing the dress; to make the occasion a little more special, he’s even fashioned himself a daisy-chain necklace. He waits a minute, a short grace period to allow Manny to collect himself, before walking back out from behind the boulders.

Manny immediately looks over at him, and Hank—Sarah, now—smiles. If in the beginning there were few differences between him and Sarah, by now there are almost none at all. The lines have been blurred for a long time, Hank knows that. If anything, Sarah’s touch is the slightest bit softer, the smallest bit gentler. If Hank’s hips swish a little more when he’s wearing the dress, well, nobody but Manny will ever know.

Hank stops to pluck a buttercup from the cobbled-together flowerpatch, all the while enjoying the feeling of Manny’s eyes on him. Finally, he walks over and sits next to Manny on the edge of the fountain, letting his legs swing freely for a moment. “Hi Manny,” he says, smiling at the corpse.

It’s almost unusual for Manny not to smile around Sarah. But now he just stares blankly at Hank, looking dazed and confused. “Hi Sarah,” Manny says. “Thanks for meeting me here. Don’t the flowers look lovely today?”

Hank isn’t sure, but he thinks he hears a quiver in Manny’s voice. “Sure,” Hank replies, smiling reassuringly back at Manny. “It’s beautiful.”

“Sarah,” Manny begins, before immediately cutting himself off. Hank blinks in surprise as Manny’s face falls, crumpling into a mask of frustration. “Hank, I’m too nervous. What if I screw up and she says no? She’ll hate me! I’ll have to hide my face forever, or just die!”

Hank pulls the wig off quickly. “Okay, okay,” Hank says, trying to calm him down. “It’s gonna go fine. Manny, it’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise.”

Manny makes a strange creaking sound that Hank guesses is an approximation of a deep breath. “Okay,” Manny says, and Hank pulls the wig back on.

“You had something you wanted to ask me, Manny?” Hank prompts, nodding Manny along.

“I… yes.” Manny pauses for a moment, eyes scanning the treetops as he tries to remember what he’s prepared. Hank watches with bated breath. Manny closes his eyes for a long moment before he’s ready. Finally, he makes eye contact with Hank and commences to speak.  

“Sarah,” he begins, in a stronger voice than before. “You’re the only girl for me. You make me want to come back to life so I can do things for you, like brush your hair and carry you around when you’re tired.” As he speaks, Hank nods along to encourage him. He’s a little surprised by how clearly Manny is speaking now, how confident he sounds. “You’re beautiful and smart,” Manny says, “and you know so many things about life. I just want you to teach me. I want to do everything with you. Like learn to ride a bike, and go to a laundromat, and invite our friends over for drinks. I want to share my whole life with you.”

Hank swallows hard, and he realizes that he’s been envisioning what Manny’s saying—them together, playing out like a movie, scenes of happiness and the two of them laughing. His heart stutters. “Wow,” he says faintly.

“That’s why I want to ask you to marry me,” Manny continues. “So we can share our lives together, and do everything, and never waste another second apart before we die. I promise to be the best husband you could ever have, and tell you how much I love you everyday. That way, you’ll never feel alone again.”

It’s getting harder for Hank to focus on being Sarah. He stares back at Manny with widening eyes as Manny's words start to fade into the background. Hank doesn’t know what’s happening— his face feels flushed, and his chest is tight, so tight it feels like he might retch. Nobody’s ever looked at Hank the way Manny’s looking at him now, and Manny isn’t even really looking at _him,_ and that’s the fucking problem—

He realizes too late that Manny has stopped talking, and Hank notices that Manny’s staring pointedly down to the box poking out of his pocket. He wants Hank to retrieve it, to put it in Manny’s hand so he can present it to Sarah himself. But Hank can’t do it. He feels dizzy, and all of a sudden he just needs to get out of there. “Stop,” he says loudly, pulling the wig off his head and clutching it in his lap. “Okay, we need to stop.”

“What?” Manny asks, utterly nonplussed. His eyebrows crease together softly. “Oh no, did I screw up? Is she going to say no?”

“No, she—” Hank looks up to the sky helplessly. “She’s not—Manny, _I_ can’t do this with you.”

“Come on, Hank! It’s just for practice. For when I ask the real Sarah to marry me.”

Hank can no longer hide it. For a brief second, his frustration boils over, and his voice raises to almost a shout. “Well did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to be your—fucking practice dummy—” He cuts himself off, already standing up. He needs to walk it off. Shut up before even more stupid shit comes spilling out of his mouth.

“Hank, wait,” Manny protests. “I can tell you’re upset. Just give me one more chance to do it right. Please Hank, I don’t know what I did wrong but I can fix it—”

“A proposal isn’t something you should _fake_ , Manny,” Hank cuts him off. He’s wired now, pacing the stepping stones and scratching at his head. “It’s important. We shouldn’t be pretending about this, anyway.”

“But I’m not pretending,” Manny protests. “I really do want her to marry me.”

Hank turns sharply around to face Manny. “Yeah, you want _her_ to marry you!” He shakes the wig in front of Manny’s face like it’s some kind of demented pom-pom. “This isn’t even the real Sarah! She—” He slaps the wig with the back of his hand. “Isn’t even real! This is just a stupid game.”

“It’s not a game! Hank, why are you upset? Is it because of something I did?”

Oh, shit. Hank slides a hand down his face, trying to get it together, to calm down. “No, Manny, no—” The lie sounds obvious, even to Hank. “Well, _yes_ , but it’s not your fault, okay? Just—”

“So it _is_ because of me,” Manny says. “I hurt you, and now you’re upset. How is that not my fault?”

Fuck, how is he supposed to explain this? “Manny, it’s not you. Sometimes, people hurt each other without meaning to, and it isn’t anybody’s fault. That’s just... how it is!”

“But that’s so fucked up,” Manny says. Hank wonders when he started using the word ‘fucked’ in front of Manny. “I don’t _want_ to hurt you, Hank. You have to tell me what I’m doing, so I’ll know how to stop!”

“I can’t explain everything to you, Manny! Jesus! Just—just forget it.” Hank shakes his head and turns to walk away. He needs some air. He needs to breathe. Before he gets past the boulders, he pauses and says back over his shoulder, “Just... yell if any bears show up,” before leaving Manny alone in the clearing.

 

Twenty minutes later, Hank returns. His head is slightly bowed, and the wig is dangling from his hand. It’s already getting dark; the sun is sliding like an egg yolk down the sky, and the garden is awash with fading golden light. Manny’s eyes follow Hank as he gracelessly reemerges from behind the boulders, shambling across the clearing to sit back down next to Manny.

Hank glances over at the corpse, who is looking back at him with wide eyes and parted lips. Hank sighs and wills himself to break the silence. “Manny, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” An owl hoots quietly in the distance, even though night has yet to fall. “Are you still angry?”

Hank’s stomach knots together with guilt. “No, no. _You_ should be angry. I mean, I screwed up your whole proposal.”

“Eh, it’s okay. Maybe she would have said no, anyway.”

“Manny, she _wouldn’t_ say no.” Hank sighs and scratches his forehead. “That’s the problem.”

Manny scoffs in disbelief. “But I _want_ her to marry me! How is that a problem?”

Hank doesn’t answer for a moment. His lips twitch side to side. He’s tried to be honest with Manny about most things—obviously he’s fucked that up, considering the fact that Manny still believes that the real Sarah is waiting for him back home. That she’ll even know who he is. And there are things he _can’t_ tell Manny, things he keeps locked up inside, deep enough that Hank himself won’t have to look at them and he can almost ignore that they’re there. But it’s getting harder to pretend. It’s there when he wakes up, it’s next to him when he falls asleep, and it sneaks up on him every time he sees Manny’s twisted smile. Christ, Hank hadn’t even been able to say hi to a girl on a bus; how is he supposed to know where to begin with this?

Finally Hank forces down the bile in his throat, and turns to Manny with a small smile. “It’s not,” he answers, and reaches over to give Manny a pat on the knee. “Let’s do the proposal.”

It’s clear from the way Manny’s eyes widen and his lips twitch up that he’s excited at the suggestion. Then his brow wrinkles. “Are you sure, Hank? You said you didn’t want to do it. You said that it hurt you."

But Hank’s already pulling the wig on, adjusting the strands of yarn around his face. They can't talk about this now. If they do, Manny's proposal will really be ruined, and Hank wants him to have this chance. He wants to do this for him. Hank's fucked up enough for Manny—he can at least do this right. "We can talk about it later, Manny. Okay? Let's just do the proposal now."

"Hank, please tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it.”

Why is this so damn hard? Hank sighs, rubbing his mouth. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was being an asshole, and I took it out on you. It's my fault, Manny, not yours." 

"But you said that you were upset because of something that I did."

"I was just exaggerating."

"But Hank—"

" _Please_ , Manny." He's practically pleading. "Just let me do this. Okay? _I_ want to do this." 

Manny looks uncertainly at him. "Okay, Hank. If you're sure you're okay with it."

Relief floods over Hank, and he closes his eyes for a moment before nodding gratefully. "Okay," he says, more to himself than to Manny. "Let's try this again."

 

He quickly sets the scene once more, darting back behind the boulders and giving his wig a last fix before emerging just like he did the first time. It's darker now, so he takes less time admiring the flowers; he just has to set the scene right, he thinks, and the rest will come easy. He picks up the pace and soon he's sitting down next to Manny on the lip of the fountain, just as before. He takes care to shed any residual despair from his face. Just happy thoughts. Sarah would be happy, so goddammit, he's going to look fucking happy. "Hi, Manny," he says sweetly, smiling over at the corpse. "It's so beautiful here." 

"Hi, Sarah," Manny says again, just as awkward as he was before. It's okay, Hank thinks, it's okay. They just have to get through this, to the important part.

Hank looks pleasantly back at Manny. “So why'd you wanna meet out here, anyway?” he prompts him softly.

"Oh, uh—" Manny seems to remember that he's supposed to deliver the speech again, and he goes quiet for a second, trying to remember all the things he said before. His lips move faintly as he mouths words, silently trying to get a grip on the long recitation. "Uhh..." 

Hank—Sarah, by now—realizes Manny's proposal speech may have been a one-time feat. He takes pity on Manny as the corpse struggles to remember where to start. Hank reaches out to turn Manny slightly, angling him towards Hank so they're facing each other fully. Manny's mouth stops moving as he stares back at Hank. Hank reaches out to move a strand of hair from Manny's eyes and Manny seems to relax against his touch. "Do you have something to _ask_ me, Manny?"

Manny suddenly remembers what to do, and his eyes dart down to the box in his pocket. Hank smiles knowingly and carefully retrieves the box before placing it in Manny’s limp hand, closing Manny’s fingers around it until the box settles in safely. Then Hank pulls on the string he’s attached to Manny’s forearm, so he raises the box into the air. A final touch, he gently opens the box.

Hank had been saving it for days before the proposal had even come up. He'd been planning to bring it out at a special occasion—their next feast maybe. He couldn’t believe it when he found it. How many years had it been since he’d had one of these? Sitting in the box, red and blue and perfect, is a ring pop, one of those old goofy candies Hank remembers from elementary school. It’s lying sideways, its candy stone glistening in the dimming light.

Now Hank assumes his role. It’s never been hard; especially not now. His eyes widen, and he looks from the box to Manny with an expression of shock. "What is this?" he asks breathlessly. 

“Two months’ salary,” says Manny.

“Oh my god, Manny.” Hank covers his mouth. It’s fucking corny, he knows, but he wants to make this real for Manny. In fact, Hank himself is surprised at the emotion he feels just from seeing the ring. It’s not like he’s ever been proposed to before. Even if, for Manny, this is just for pretend.

Hank reaches out tremulously, removing the ring from the box. "I can't believe this."

“Sarah,” Manny says, looking intently at Hank. “You're the person I want to spend my life with." He pauses. "Hank, are you sure this is okay?"

The sound of his name is jarring, and for a moment Hank's eyes widen in surprise. Then he smiles, and nods his confirmation. "Keep going," he whispers.

Manny swallows. Hank didn't know that was something he could do. He meets Manny's stare and notices that his eyes are shining as if filled with moonlight. For a brief, weird second, Hank almost feels like the most beautiful woman in the world. "Will you marry me?” Manny asks.

Finally, there it is, like a breath of relief. Hank can’t help it. He laughs in shock, as if the proposal is truly a surprise and he hadn’t spent days arranging the whole thing for Manny. Manny’s lips pull up in a crooked smile. “Is that a yes?” he asks.

Hank's face splits into a grin, and he thinks to himself that Meryl Streep herself couldn’t fake it this well. But then, he isn’t faking it anymore. He hasn’t been for a long time. Hank reaches out and quickly pulls Manny in against him, tightly wrapping him in his arms. “Yes, Manny,” he answers into Manny’s shoulder. “Yes, you idiot.” He can feel Manny's grin against his cheek, and Hank notices there are tears prickling in his eyes. He shuts his eyes to keep the tears from falling. 

The string holding Manny up breaks suddenly, and the two of them fall backward into the fountain. “Shit,” Hank swears, landing clumsily on Manny, all knees and elbows. The plastic bags that had been the fountain are all around them, and Hank pulls some out of his face in annoyance. Then he realizes that Manny is laughing underneath him, and Hank starts to laugh too, relaxing back onto the crushed plastic fountain.

They lie there as the last rays of daylight fade from the sky, laughing quietly until they gradually settle into silence. Hank feels warm inside, but his heart is heavy enough to break. He smiles past the lump in his throat. At least he did it for Manny.

And if Manny starts asking about how to plan a reception, Hank will throw himself off a cliff. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope some people still care about this movie. It really hit me hard.  
> This was a lot of fun to write. Comments and feedback are very much appreciated! <3


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